


Sweet Wolf

by AnaWolf



Category: Tokyo Mew Mew
Genre: Bittersweet, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fun, Happy, Love, Other, Sad and Sweet, several types, short to long, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaWolf/pseuds/AnaWolf
Summary: A collection of drabbles focusing on Zakuro and Keiichiro.





	Sweet Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Those are a small collection of drabbles (varying in size) about Zakuro/Keiichiro. I know Zakuro/Pai is a particular OTP of mine, but I felt like writing some stuff about this other pairing, which I also enjoy.
> 
> Some of those drabbles will be happy and some, not so much.

_**1\. Beast** _

His body can't fight off the shiver born at some spot too deep to be indicated with certainty. His lungs fight for air while his nerves are about to break contact, reducing his members to amounts of flesh and bone that have forgotten their purpose. Heat is still in him, enough to make it easier to feel the drops of sweat down his skin…

Underneath him, she is still beautiful. Her hair spreads around her head and her delicate shape hides the strength. Her features are still lovely, perhaps even heightened by the expression of pain and betrayal forever carved there. Her blood fresh spilled mixes with the snow around, both stealing all other colors.

Keiichiro barely remembers what happened, the sensation of having been jerked awaken from a nightmare without time for the mind to process the change between two states. Only pieces of images blink inside his eyes and they are losing their meaning as much as everything else… He was searching for her. That he knows.

And when he found her… She was with one of the aliens, with someone who was an enemy of all humanity and proudly declared it so. Yet, they were there, hiding from all eyes in an embrace while the snow gently fell over them as a blessing and few lights of Christmas decorations played around…

Then she was alone, maybe heading home… He had cornered her, feelings that he had always ignored breaking free and fighting for domination… What words were said, what was made known, Keiichiro cannot remember. Because then somehow, he was above her, shattering her flesh and breaking her veins with a knife…

Nothing of those images make any sense, not even what part of his brain they could come from… There is no path to lead him back to a saner world and the only meaning to be found (at least the only one that matters) lies in the scent of her blood and he drowns on this delicious drug.

Perhaps, the remains of his sanity manage to think, before falling into the darkness of the mind, the aliens are right.

Animals are animals. But humans are just beasts.

XxX

_**2\. Goodbye** _

He is no stranger to mistakes of any nature and believes in learning with the past. And he thought that he had learnt, but if this was true, then why is he running through a sea of people, ignoring mutterings and low protests as his heartbeat causes a thunder in his ears?

No one cares much, not even the people snapping when he bumps into them, for there are always people running around in airports and everyone is too busy with their own goals. Goodbyes and hellos are being said, calls are being made and above all a disembodied voice warns of procedures and flights in a cheerful tone, as if to prevent people whose flies are being delayed to be angry (and failing). This voice is ice worming into his ears…

Keiichiro is not being guided by mind or logic. In the moment, his thoughts are made more of notions and the only word resonating inside is a weak plea. To who or what, even he doesn't know…

He told himself he wouldn't come, couldn't come. He had even said so at the party made by her friends, when he had resigned himself to wish her good luck, the perfect gentleman and supportive friend.

If he did not, then he would ask her to stay. Keiichiro has no right to do so. Zakuro has sacrificed too much already and they all can see how this is such a golden opportunity… He can't ask her to forsake it because of feelings she is not aware of. Nor he should make them known now. Wouldn't it be too close of manipulation? And hadn't he decided, long ago, she deserved the freedom she hadn't during the war to pursue better skies?

Those words he repeated to himself as a prayer and yet, here he is.

A voice is born somewhere in the back of his mind, whispering how he should go back, how he should let her go precisely because he loves her… It's all true, yet his body doesn't obey, doesn't recognize the brain commands, lost in its desire to reach her… Even if just to see her for a moment, for a last time…

Just this once more…

The overly sweet voice echoes around again. His weary brain cannot process the words, only the meaning though there is no need, for he looks through the large windows that take almost all the wall and can see the plane… He knows it's her flight by the time, the blue words against the white skin of metal and the meaning of what was announced…

The plane starts to move, slowing gaining speed before winning the skies and taking her away.

Though his muscles are weary, there is no more movement to be done, be it sitting down or just falling on his knees. There is only the isolation of his own mind, he can only think that she is gone… Gone… The word becomes a cycle, like a concept he doesn't want to process because then it will be real…

He touches the glass, barely feeling the surface. His fist closes in anger, anger for his own weakness, his fear, himself…

And he hears a soft voice behind him, calling his name in a whisper.

XxX

_**3\. Idolized** _

She is used to being object of admiration, be due to her beauty (as shallow as it sounds) or her status (same) and also to respond with such refinement and kind smiles that no one can guess how tiring it can get at times. As much as she loves her career and is aware of how some could consider her hypocrite for such thoughts, Zakuro is among those who can be plagued by fame and at times, feel bitter about it… The acknowledgement of her talent is safe from those feelings, is what everyone wants, the problem lies on how much focus is on the first two details that the latter can often be overlooked, as strange as this may sound. And some people end up perceiving the image they make of her as a truth. She has at times wondered what is more real, this image constructed by others or her sense of self…

Not that she would bother talking about it. Most people wouldn't understand or care (since it's not befitting with how they see her) and, again, so many would consider her a hypocrite for complaining about something in her seemingly pristine life…

But everything in life has a black and white side to it.

Even with her teammates she is not completely safe from such molds, the status as a celebrity becoming a label that weights over her body, grabbing the pores of her skin as it taints the eyes of even those who are the first friends she ever had... Just enough so they can't just see her for herself alone… And it shows.

Ichigo, who doesn't even know details of her career, tries to insinuate questions of how to be beautiful and graceful (no doubt wanting to be better in the eyes of Masaya), at times observing her silently, paying attention at gestures she tries to imitate later and Zakuro would much rather have the girl not beat around the bush and just ask her for advice directly, as she would to any other friend.

Lettuce at times seems to avoid seeking to make a conversation with her out of fear of being bothersome, often regarding Zakuro the same way the fans who long to talk to her but lack the courage do.

Even Pudding treats her differently than the others, being less carefree with her than Zakuro would like. Like Lettuce, at times it seems they don't want to be judged or something along those lines… Even when Zakuro attempts to tell them to loosen up.

And there is no need to mention Mint, who alternates between watching her from afar with so much admiration in her gaze that it hurts or making an unnecessary effort to be more elegant in the older one's eyes… Yet, all she knows of Zakuro is the info available in magazines and sites, as if this is all she needs to know about her…

It can get tiresome as much (and also because) as she loves them, for Zakuro wants to be recognized as a friend, as one of them, not to be placed above them or anyone else… She would like them to want to know her as a person, as she tries to do with them…

Not that this is cause of ill feelings. Zakuro doesn't blame them. She can't.

They are young and impressible, it's understandable, but even so… At times, she has wondered if it was too much to ask for someone, even just one person, to see her as she truly is.

It's a relief when she can spend afterhours in the café alone with Keiichiro, just sitting down with him and talking of simple things. And when Keiichiro looks at her, Zakuro knows he is actually seeing her…

And she loves him all the more for it.

XxX

_**4\. Feral** _

She growls and snarls, her fangs visible as she fights against the restraints that keep her on the metal table. No words or reason reach can her and bring her back from whatever corner of her mind she has been pushed to. When Ryou injects something in her veins, she tries to bite him and there is no humanity to be found in the sounds that she makes.

And while Ryou says, over and over, that she will regain her senses soon, that it's merely a reaction of her body adapting to the new genes, Keiichiro can't help but notice that the blonde doesn't look at him…

Nor can Keiichiro help but to hate him for how he conducts the Mew Project when, for a moment, her wolf-like eyes touch his and he knows that she no longer recognizes him.

XxX

_**5\. Jealousy** _

It is funny, how things work sometimes… Following the natural assumptions of human beings, anyone looking from outside would consider Keiichiro as the only one prone to jealousy and also the only one of their relationship with reasons for it… And he knows it.

The knowledge doesn't affect him, he understands a thing or two of how the human mind can work and it's a simple scenario, after all: To the rest of the world, he is a mere cook in a café who is, somehow, dating a model. And God knows that when they made their relationship public known, over the specter of severe kinds of reactions, the one that hid and rule over most of all was surprise.

So, yes, people would assume him to be the only one affected by such feelings, no matter if they never give each other reasons for it.

Yet, emotions don't necessary need reasons or motives to come into being…

And that's why he is trying to not chuckle while Zakuro is glaring at a couple of girls who tried to flirt with him at the café.

XxX

_**6\. Definition** _

It wasn't uncommon for her to be unsure of how to define herself… And with the natural need of all beings to have at least a basis of self-understanding, she sought concepts that could be of help. Her name was not enough, if it had ever been… It was just a sound used for identification, not unlikely the name of an object or plant, just letters thrown together that, in the end, held no real meaning and could change, be due to marriage, adopted aliases or even the person's choice.

Names were, however, still connected to identity, so it should be of help…

It was not.

But then how to define herself? Her joining to the Mew Project revived the question and more than never, the answer was out of her reach…

She was not completely human. And she was not completely wolf either… The closest biologic definition would be aberration… Freak… Monster…

Should she rely on her acts then? The ones that guided her life the most? It wouldn't be enough, but she needed at least a point from where she could begin. Yet, she had a career and dreams just like she had battles and nightmares.

So even then, neither the concept of model or warrior was enough…

The question kept plaguing her mind, biting the corners of her brain even when she tried to refuse the thoughts. And weary of this sensation, of this feeling of being so lost, she ended up asked him, then.

He was involved in the project since it had been conducted by Ryou's father, so he was as responsible as Ryou was! The least he owned her was a definition that rescued her from that darkness of doubt, at least some help. He had changed her, he should tell her what she was since she no longer knew.

He looked at her after she bled her doubts for him. And when they looked at each other, Zakuro realized that despite still being human, he also didn't know what or who he was either, lost in a labyrinth of his own… There was no need to mess up with a person's DNA to infect the senses until they started to drown inside their own minds.

He took her hands in his. And whispered that all he knew was that she was the one he loved.

And while he apologized for such a weak answer, Zakuro was happy with it.

XxX

**7\. Numb**

Walking on the street, he gives the appearance of a calm man… Is it due to being more used to hide his emotions than one would think, having had to bear secrets for so long or due to being so tired all the time? All he is can think about is how he snapped at her today. Again. It's not the first time and it won't be the last… And Keiichiro knows this.

It surely isn't the path their lives were supposed to take… It should have been a happy ending for all of them, finally going back to their lives without having to worry about the death of humans or battles, gaining a new appreciation for life as a result. Isn't this the traditional happy ending? Isn't this what they surely deserve?

It is, on both accounts. And it remains unreachable…

He knows the others despise him for his treatment of Zakuro and he is also aware he is deserving of it... Ryou is beyond disappointed and actually disgusted at how his friend has changed, this he has told Keiichiro, even though there was no need for words, he could read those emotions clearly in the eyes of the boy he helped to grow after his parent's deaths. Ichigo has no trust for him anymore and regards him as a dangerous stranger and he wonders if she has ever looked at the aliens in such a cold way. Lettuce's eyes show nothing but sadness, for him and Zakuro alike, being the one who first noticed their love growing and now is left to imagine where and what twisted it. Pudding, still too much of a child to understand such things completely, asks him why he is so mean if he loves Zakuro and doesn't hide her hurt either… In her innocence, her questions are daggers.

And every time he sees Mint, the girl doesn't bother to hide her despise or her desire to retaliate what he does to the one she came to see as a true older sister, who helped her to overcome all the times her house was a cold tomb and the lack of warmth from her family. Maybe one day she will finally snap and attack him.

If Zakuro was still famous, if she hadn't given up her career due to her longing for a normal life, he wonders what her fans would say should his treatment of her became public… But people forget quickly and after a few months, their eyes turned to other celebrities in anyway.

He arrives at home and finds her sitting at the table, tending a wound in her hand, probably made while she was making dinner… And while a part of him knows he should go to her and he wishes to do just that, remembering a time passed by when he used to kiss bruises gained in battle and hated those who had harmed her, now his vision is completely dominated by the red that pulls strings inside him… And against memories and wishes, all he can do is spit out some nasty words to her to which Zakuro merely nods…

In days past, her reaction would be far from acceptance. And she could have walked away from him long ago and even if the thought is a source of despair, Keiichiro also knows deep inside that it's what he deserves. It doesn't matter if he never lays a hand on her, his words do the job just fine.

He loves her, he truly does. Or at least what is left in him that can love does… If someone ever asked him about it, he would be forced to admit he has no words that can explain why he became like this, how those actions are born and why… And Zakuro, unknowingly to him, has no words to express why she stays with him either.

The only thing they would be able to say is that, even though the war ended in a way that demanded no blood, it still claimed lives.

In the end, perhaps they are both too broken to carry on alone, too plagued by nightmares to find peace with each other and too numb to care.

XxX

**8\. Wolf**

Jump. Attack. Avoid.

Her body moves, controlled more by the survival instinct than by rationality. The stimuli around would be enough to exhaust nerves, but there is no refuge. This is another battle, another bead in a red rosary of this war.

A flash of white pain in her shoulder. The warmth that follows warns her first than the smell of her own blood. No time to cry. No time to look. She attacks again, dodging a dagger.

This is war.

It's a cacophony of sounds and scents, flesh being cut, metal against bone, cries of pain and anger becoming one.

All her senses are focused in what she is doing and a moment of hesitation means death.

Then her senses pick up one thing. One thing that silences everything around.

It takes Zakuro a second in which she smells his blood, when the alien tries to stab Keiichiro, missing for a mere inch as the knife lands in his side rather piercing an organ… And the warrior is forgotten, the wolf awakens.

The purple-eyed alien is not allowed enough time to react when she runs to him, more aggressive than anyone has ever seen her before, too angry to even hide her emotions under the usual mask…

And it's also a second before her fangs make a nest in his throat.

Wolves, after all, are intensely protective of their mates.

XxX

**9\. Comfort**

She is not used to shed tears anymore, and has even wondered if she still can or if they were all wasted during a childhood of being ignored by her parents, often feeling she was to be remembered only when they wanted to attend a party all together under a pretense of happy family, at occasions when they wanted to be praised for having such a pretty and polite little girl. Later on, they seemed to want to make use of the recognition she received after her hard work had paid off, more steps in the ladder they viewed life as… It lasted only for the little time she needed until she managed to run off and publicly declare she no longer had ties with her family… It had been the first and only time she had made something of her private life known and it had taken a time until the press had learnt there would be no more details from her.

The letters her parents send her from time to time are made of sweet words and taste of hypocrisy. Her heart, though still wounded, no longer cares if their feelings are genuine… But she doesn't cry.

Her last tears were shed for someone who held her heart and who was taken away from her due to the lies that took his hand and gently led him to take his own life…

Now, Zakuro finds she still has tears after all, not due to her emotions that rarely get off their leash, but due to wounds and cuts that burnt her skin during battles, remaining underneath it and the nightmares that follow, entering her system to never leave again. Some speak of the relief that crying can bring, but her tears hurt just as well somehow.

That's how she can be found now, hours deep into the night, sitting in bed and hugging her legs. Still as she is, only one person can tell that she is trying to not shiver or to allow echoes of screams to surface.

In this moment, she is not a model or a young woman. She is not a genetic weapon and she is not a warrior… The nightmares devour everything in their path and she? She is just hollow.

Keiichiro sits up in silence and holds her close to his chest as he always does. And Zakuro doesn't let go because it's only in his embrace that she is safe from what is now inside of her.

XxX

**10\. Eyes**

Sometimes, when Zakuro looks at mirrors, she notices small animalistic details in her eyes even when she is not in her mew form… They're not enough to denounce her dual nature to others or to raise any sort of estrangement, but are enough to become a reminder every time she looks at her reflection, not only of what she truly is but also of the terror of battles… And it's not easy to avoid such a thing when in her job she is often close to mirrors. The irony of the whole thing is not lost on her.

Poets often call them windows of the soul, but to Zakuro looking at her own eyes is like falling inside herself, being taken by memories and thoughts she can't escape from or fight against… At times, it feels the sight can pull back the screams in her blood, the memories intense enough to force her body to revive all the sensations of every battle…

And if the poets are correct, what does this say for her own soul? Is that still of a pure being or the body has influence over it? Zakuro can't escape her own eyes… Like the old saying, no matter how cleverly you sneak up on a mirror, your reflection always looks you straight in the eye…

As if he can sense when those thoughts run free in her blood, Keiichiro holds her and tells her over and over that he loves her eyes.

XxX

**11\. Hold**

He refuses to let go of her hand even while the wounds are being treated. One may think his mind is not bothering to process what is being said due to worry, but he is purposely ignoring the words around even when the doctors try to assure him that she will be alright and Ryou is by the door, coming up with lies to justify her current state, not giving away what really happened and who she really is.

Keiichiro ignores it because none of those people actually know her and her feelings. As much as the doctors understand the wounds in her flesh, they don't understand the wounds she carries inside.

He doesn't move. Because he can't leave her alone. Because she has told him things no one knows. And because of that, he knows that if he lets go of her hand, she will get lost and not wake up again.

XxX

**12\. Rest**

The silence could be peaceful, if it wasn't marked by emotions that are anything but. Not one sound is made by anyone, out of the sense that it would break whatever illusion the brain clings to and make this real… For just some seconds more, Keiichiro wants to believe this is another nightmare no matter what his senses are telling his numb mind.

She is still warm in his arms, still has the sweet perfume of always… Yet her warmth is escaping along with the blood, her natural scent is losing as that of death blooms. He holds her tighter in futile hopes that he can somehow protect her from deterioration as he couldn't protect her in life, like the fairy tale of a princess who would not decay no matter for how long she was dead…

Someone tries to step closer, being stopped by someone else.

And Keiichiro can only hold her close, not knowing what do or think and also unable to defend himself against the reality of the warmth of her blood.

Zakuro doesn't react to his embrace and it's a cruel joke that she seems so peaceful in the eternal rest.

XxX

**13\. Mark**

She lies near his body in their bed, covered only by the moonlight that spies through the window, becoming a witness to the despair that now closes her throat along with the taste of blood that her senses can't ignore, no matter how much she wants to.

The woman tries to find some reason in what happened, tries to bring some understanding back to the world, as if she has woken up from a drugged sleep with shattered memories… And at the same time, Zakuro wants to hide in the depths of her own mind, where there the only law is the sound of her own blood, so she doesn't have to fully comprehend what happened.

She hadn't even thought about what she was doing, they had just been kissing, gently getting rid of their clothes for the first time and longing to be as close as it is possible, to truly be together… And then suddenly, the urge to mark him as hers had dominated each nerve of her body.

If only Zakuro had regained control in time, she wouldn't have teared his throat open.

XxX

**14\. Valentine**

As he stands before her, he doesn't know what he was thinking, as cliché as it sounds and keeps repeating in his mind how he should have forsaken the idea instead of allowing it to become an act.

She is famous, gorgeous and can have any man she wants… And he? He is a mere fool who is currently standing in front of her after asking her for a moment of her time, and now feels small insect's paws holding each of his nerves and standing in the path of his voice. For all the situation, truth is he is feeling like a nerd trying to talk to the most popular girl in school… Such a comparison should be amusing at the very least, but the thought does nothing to calm his heart and he feels warmth going up his cheeks.

Even so, it's too late now to change anything. All that he can do is stand in front of her with his gift of Valentine's Day that he made himself... He can't even cover his intentions with kind lies of this being a mere gesture of friendship, not with the shape of the chocolate he made and the dedication to details... As he feels the soft wrapping in his hands, his mind whispers of how she probably received all sorts of romantic-intended gifts already, from both fans and admirers, ranging from chocolates to jewelry that he can't even dream to afford.

It surprises him when she smiles softly at him and says this is the best gift she has ever received.

XxX

**15\. Serenity**

It's the end and they both know… Ships take dominion over the skies as stars at night and the cries of humans are weakened by the ruins around, the sound not finding a path to make echo… How does that poem go again? The world doesn't end with a bang, but a whimper?

His hand seeks hers and offers warmth in the hold. They share a look and somehow… The chaos around… It seems to fade. It's the end of their world, of their lives… The unnecessary proof is the bodies of fallen friends around, the blood smeared on the bruised skin and how they can both barely stand and only do so out of a sense of last defiance, refusing to die on their knees before the cold-eyed alien in front of them…

Yet, their hearts are not crying. Nothing can touch them. No censoring themselves for wasted time or that they should have tried harder, no plagued thoughts on whether if they had done one little thing different at some point of the past would have changed this outcome or not, no time to think about unsaid words and undone deeds…

There is no despair and the only thing Zakuro wonders, though vaguely, is if this is because they are so tired or because they are together even now.

Yes, it is the end. But it is a serene ending and their enemies cannot take this away from them.

XxX

**16\. Laceration**

Pretending smiles and gleefulness comes easily to her. It's part not only of the game-like side of her career, but also of life. It's quite basic when one thinks about it and equally common if one wishes to avoid rumors that, once born, are too resistant to the truth. Better be safe than sorry, after all, since no one enjoys dealing with such things. In the end, wearing a mask has nothing to do with fame, it is more of a social necessity…

And when the mask bothers her, it is usually due to being tired or having her mind focusing elsewhere… It never got to the point of being painful.

Until now. She loves both of the dearly and would sooner break her own bones than causing any sort of negative feeling to them… One is her best friend, the other is the man that holds her heart without knowing it… If this was a movie, people would be rolling their eyes at the cliché of the situation, and a part of her knows it.

They are people she loves. If they are happy, then she is happy for them… That much is true.

But then… Why the smiles she has to force her face into as she congratulates them feel like a laceration nevertheless?

XxX

**17\. Family**

Can one mourn those who are still alive? Can one lament the loss of what s/he never had? Keiichiro looks at Zakuro during the funeral and can't help but to wonder as she plays the part of distressed daughter. Although she has mastered the art of smiles for the camera and is a great actress, there is a subtle difference when having to pretend sorrow for the death of a father who was never a father at all at the side of a mother who was never a mother at all.

She makes use of the liability, though, pretending to be in shock, still processing and accepting what happened, when in truth she would rather have not come and it was only because she has to watch for rumors and her reputation…

Keiichiro stands at her side, aware that this doesn't mean she feels no sorrow whatsoever. But her family has hurt her too much, caused too much tears for things to be simple and as much she, in the past, thought there could come a day when they would be a family, Zakuro is aware this is just not possible… Just another far-away dream that is no more than dust, the glint of a star that is already dead. Yet, she mourns the father she never had, the mother who is alive and yet is a complete stranger who cared more about appearances and jewels than embraces and storybooks.

She holds his hand and he feels she is shivering, despite all. And he vows he will do his best to be a true husband to her and a true father to the life that is growing in her womb.

* * *

So, what do you guys think? Which was your favorite one? I would love to know.

On a side, please bear in mind that English is not my first language and despite how everything I write is in English, I'm still learning. So, if anyone picks up some typo, please tell me!


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